A Belated Thank You
by DarkPhoenix83
Summary: *Complete* A/U, SanSan, set after the BotB. This story is inspired from the fact that I was pissed Sansa and Sandor didn't meet up in the 7th Season. It's a lemon filled, short story, focused on these two unlikely lovers getting together. If you want a real story go somewhere else, this is just for the few of us, who have emotional stock in this pairing. Enjoy!
1. An Unexpected Visitor

**Disclaimer:** I love the books and the movies and can sadly claim neither as my own intellectual property. Anything similar to something you may have read somewhere is pure coincidence.

 **Note:** This is my first GoT story in the fanfic realm, so I'm totally curious to see how the fans are. If you read any of my other stories I have a huge affinity for broken things, which is probably why I'm so hot on the SanSan pairing. There's something about him that's alluring and disturbing, which is why I adore him. I will portray Sansa in this fic as her season 7 strong self with a sexual edge, I'll let her live my dirty little fantasy on this one ;-) This is a part of a story I might work into something bigger, but it's hard to say. Anyway, please enjoy, please give comments etc. I only anticipate one or two more chapters. As I said in the description, it's short, it's lemons and that's all.

* * *

 **Sandor**

The dirt flew from the hooves of his black mare as Sandor Clegane directed her up the hill. His heart beat a little faster knowing he was close, knowing he would soon see the place he had been thinking about, almost obsessively, for the last four years. He had to see if the rumors were true, if the chatter of the flirty barmaids and the banter of the traveled bards held any weight. ' _Is she really there? Did she survive all that?'_ He wondered. So many things had happened, his own journey had not been as easy as simply going from one place to another. He knew hers had not been either, and it gave him a sense of longing, of wondering how it might be when they reunited. Sandor's stomach clenched at the thought, he wasn't one to get nervous over such things, but these thoughts left him uneasy.

The black mare grunted as he brought her to a halt at the top of the hill. It was an early winter day, sunny with a slight chill in the air. The sky was a deep blue and the sun seemed to shine on Winterfell as if the Gods were guiding him to that direct spot. Sandor could not deny that he preferred the smell and freshness of the northern air. It gave a man a sense of freedom, a break from the overfilled and rancid cities of the south. He was not a northern man, but he had fought against them, seen their prowess on the battlefield and had a great affinity for their determination and skill. ' _She'll be well guarded. She's home now, with thousands of men at her command.'_ He considered his options silently as he took in the view of the city.

In the end it was clear, there was only one way he could really do anything successfully and it was always direct and with a sword in hand. He hoped she would remember him, he hoped she would look upon him differently than she had in King's Landing. A small smile crept across his burnt face. His little bird had become a she-wolf now, there was nothing more that he wanted other than to see her again, make sure she was well and possibly tell her how he felt about her. His smile weakened at the thought of the last point. Sandor remembered his offer to her before the siege, when he had snuck into her chambers and asked her to come away with him. Well that had been his hope, he had actually offered to take her away to her family, back to familiar and friendly territory. Her refusal had hurt, but what had he been thinking? How could she have ever conceived of leaving with a brute like him? Perhaps he would pass on the last point.

Spurred by his riding boots the mare trotted onward toward the stronghold. Winter was coming, the words of the Starks rang truer than he cared to admit. Though, if what he had heard on the road heald any water, the army of the dead would be approaching. At this pace he would make it to Winterfell at sundown. So fuck honor and fuck responsibilities, it was time to settle scores and tend to unfinished business before the apocalypse. And there was no one he had more unfinished business with than Lady Sansa Stark.

* * *

 **Sansa**

The Maester had brought more candles to the hall were Sansa sat, finishing up the book keeping. There was much to be done in Jon's absence and much to prepare for as the winter snows began to fall. She was the Lady of Winterfell, the eldest to still bare the name Stark and felt the weight of her office heavily on her shoulders. She preferred working in the Great Hall, it provided her the space she needed to review ledgers, consult laws and to make sure the stockpiles were growing at a reasonable pace. She also couldn't stand being in her parents old bedroom, formerly Ramsey's quarters and now her own. Her captivity at Winterfell had been a horrific chapter in a life that had started with privilege, journeyed into loss and suffering, then finally continued with her and Jon regaining their family's traditional lands. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She took the room because she knew she had to confront her fears, she knew she had to show everybody, particularly herself, that she was strong enough to get over her short but horrific time as a Bolton. She had heard her father, uncle and even Jon talk about the terrors of war. What it did to a man and how things could haunt them for the rest of their lives. She had decided that a woman's ordeal in these times was not all that different when it came to the marks it left on the soul. Different battles, different stakes, but the pain, strength and grit it required to get through them was the same.

Sansa was about to put away her books when a large commotion drew her from her task. Not even taking a moment to throw her warm cloak over her shoulders, she ran out onto the balcony that overlooked the courtyard of her home. The yelling grew louder and the sound of metal hitting metal rang out on this cool winter's evening. Upon reaching the railing, Sansa had to shield her eyes from the light of the dusk, just peaking out over the horizon, it still shone into the courtyard. She could see her house guards surrounding a man, fighting him six to one. Peering a little closer, the voice and the face was unmistakable. ' _He's here!'_ she thought to herself with excitement. There were very few men in the Seven Kingdoms who could take on six men at once and have those men shivering in their boots.

"Lower your swords at once!" Sansa's voice boomed from the balcony with authority. As her last word rang out Sandor brought his sword tip to the ground, kneeling before it in the direction of her voice. Her guards stood there dumbfounded, not understanding exactly what had just happened.

"What is the meaning of this?" she questioned her guards, noticing the chill of the evening creeping up her skin.

"Ma' Lady, it's the Hound. He's come from King's Landing, a Lannister man here to do you ill." The commander of the guard protested, keeping one eye trained on Sansa and the other on his huge opponent. The other guards also kept their swords drawn, pointed toward the mountain of the man known to all as the disfigured Hound, Sandor Clegane.

Sandor kept his eyes trained on the ground in front of him, willing himself not to look the she-wolf in the face. It had been a lifetime since he had heard that voice. What had been so soft and unsure in the capital, was strong and authoritative in her homeland. It was all he could do to not look up until called upon.

"My dear Captain," Sansa started, "I appreciate your concern and am grateful for your sharp eye and your fast reaction. You have done your duty well. However, of all those in King's Landing who would wish me ill, Master Clegane is not one of them." She waited to gauge their reaction to her words. "Whilst in King's Landing Master Clegane and I were both bound to do certain things, whether willing or unwilling, because of duty and for fear of our lives. The Lannisters are tyrants and have forced many a good person in a position to do bad things. Show him the same forgiveness you have for my transgressions whilst at the capital, and put down your swords."

Sandor smiled slightly toward the ground as he heard her voice speak his name and profess his honor. He'd never been a man of honor, nor had any man in his house. Theirs was one built on the corpses of the children of the Mad King, not through thousands of years of rule as Sansa's house had. Yet she had not seen him as an enemy, she was welcoming him. Sandor inhaled deeply as he heard the swords of the guards being put into their sheaths.

Sansa marveled at his discipline, as he stayed on his knee showing her the respect of his full capitulation. Even from the balcony he was bigger than she remembered, so much so that he stood out even amongst Northern men. While his sword might not be quite as tall as she was, it was probably about as heavy. She moved forward on the balcony, grasping the railing with her hands. With a deep breath she turned her full attention to him, "Master Clegane, to what do I owe this honor?"

There are moments in time when you both love and hate your codpiece. As Sandor rose to meet his patron, both he and his codpiece could not have been prepared for what they saw. Gone was the lanky young girl with blue eyes and striking red hair. In her place was a woman, her simple green gown pulled over her curves so tightly that Sandor could see that even Starks could feel the cold in winter. It accentuated her Tully blue eyes and her deep red hair hung loose and wild, surrounding her face in a mane of hair that made her look like a goddess out of some southern tales told to children. So in this moment he was simultaneously cursing the very existence of his codpiece for stifling his true physical emotions, and thanking it for the fact that he kept him from utter embarrassment.

When he couldn't let the silence drag out any longer he began, "Lady Stark, I've come for a private audience."

He could see his request was not popular amongst the guards and the Maester, now by Sansa's side. Northerner's had a reason for mistrusting Southerner's, but it made him angry to see how blatant their mistrust was. He locked his eyes on Sansa, knowing that to look at the faces of utter disgust around him, would only serve to feed his temper.

"Then you shall have one." Sansa confirmed in a rather business like tone. She needed to temper her pure excitement so she focused on this as a task, and not as something she had been hoping for since they had retaken Winterfell and Arya had recounted her adventures with Sandor. "Maester, show him to the room in the East Wing. Have food and a bath for him. I'm sure our guest is tired after his long journey."

She allowed her eye to wander back to the Hound and was captured by his dark brown eyes. She could have spent hours looking into them, but managed to tear herself away from them and say, "I'll be with you once I've finished up here." She turned and walked back into the hall, leaving the cold and her old guardian to be attended to in the courtyard.

Sansa had not expected that just the sight of him would kick up so many emotions in her. She was instantly brought back to their encounters in King's Landing and how much of what he had done was keep her strong and out of the line of fire. Joffrey had been on the edge of insanity, drunken with power, and nobody to truly check his dark side. Sandor had always protected her, had always made sure she was ok...he had always looked at her in a way that tore through her. At the time Sansa had not know what it meant or why, she only knew it made her feel uncomfortable. Now, after several betrothals and two marriages, she knew what men's looks meant and she knew the benevolence or malevolence behind them. In all this time the Hound, the King's dog, the disfigured beast that did the bidding of the Lannisters had been the only man who looked at her with both desire and love. It was a look she had not forgotten. His eyes were the same then as they were in the courtyard only moments ago, and the thought brought a warmth to her body and a tingle to her breasts. She was certainly ready to give Sandor Clegane a private audience.


	2. An Unexpected Kiss

**Disclaimer:** No ownership, fanfic all the way!

 **Note:** We enter chapter 2 with a little more intimacy. I guess this will be a 3 chapter type of story. Thanks for the comments and for the likes and follows...it's great to know that my naughty little thoughts can be shared ;-)

* * *

 **Sandor**

"Fuck waiting for our _little talk_." Sandor grunted under his breath as he stripped his travel worn clothing from his body. It had been dark as he had been shown to his room in the castle, so he couldn't be sure exactly how much time had passed. All he knew was that it was far too much time for him, and he'd be damned if he took a cold bath because the Lady of the house was too busy to see him. He settled into the water, still warm enough that the steam rolled off of it and contemplated what he was actually going speak with Sansa about. He had ridden a long way, he had seen her, she was well….and that was as far as he had planned. He hadn't expected that she would actually _give_ him an audience, much less that she would put him up in her home. A rough dismissal would have been enough.

' _What a stupid love sick fuck I am.'_ he chided himself as he brought the soap to his skin. He hated the idea of being some lovesick puppy, fawning over a pretty girl. The last pretty girl he had fawned over had ended up in Gregor's hands, she hadn't lasted long after that. He let the water rush over him and wash away his terrible memories. Things were different now. He was man, no longer a lanky boy. She was a Stark, strong and surrounded by those who would lay down their lives to protect her.

He let his eyes scan the room by the light of the fireplace. It was a comfortable room in the northern style, functional, warm and welcoming. Nothing of the lavishness of southern palaces, this place was different. He could see now why Sansa both wanted the more beautiful things in life the capital had to offer, and could never quite fit in. Hers had been an upbringing for a Highborn that was closer to the people. Nothing she could do could wash her of that. In King's Landing she had so wanted to fit in, but it had taken her the loss of her father, captivity with the Lannisters and the Boltons for her to truly feel comfortable in her own skin. He had come to terms long ago with what he was and the things he had done. It had been a long road, but he was here, he was alive and he was fucking annoyed that he was still waiting on her.

He stretched his long arm outward toward the small stool where he had left his towel, only to find wood. Sandor felt around, leaning slowly out of the tub to touch the floor and found nothing. He rolled his eyes, "Oh fucking great!" He grumbled as he stood up.

"Are you looking for this Master Clegane?" came a recognizable lady's voice from the darkness behind him.

Sansa stood in the utter darkness just out of his line of sight, holding a towel out in her right hand, her eyes transfixed on his silhouetted form. He stood between her and the fireplace and the light danced around his muscular body, licked its edges and teased her eyes with the promise of seeing more. He was 6ft 6in tall, almost twice her breadth and all muscle. He had the body of a man who had earned it, lead a hard life and earned money with his sword. She fought the urge the bite her bottom lip as he took the towel from her hand, mumbled something that sounded like a 'Thanks' and stepped out of the tub.

She'd caught him totally off guard, not even assassins sent from Bravos to kill the little prick of a King Joffrey had been able to do that. He was swordless, unsuspecting and naked - he snorted at the thought as he tried to gain control of his wits.

The awkward silence between them had gone on long enough, "My apologies, I'm so busy with preparations for the long winter, that it gets more and more difficult to find a private moment. I trust this arrangement will work just fine."

"So this is what you do? Walk in on unsuspecting men while they're bathing? Doesn't get more private than that." He twisted slightly to see her reaction. Her black cloak was wrapped around her body, making it impossible to make out her shape. Only the pale white skin of her face, deep blue eyes and long red hair stood out against the black background. The slight smirk on her face and the hunger in her eyes gave Sandor the feeling of a wolf deciding how best to toy with its prey. He turned away from her again and began to dry his hair, attempting to make sense of what exactly was going on.

Sansa pressed on, as if his commentary had not even been heard, "Now what exactly is it that you wish to discuss with me."

He was totally off the mark, still reeling from her intrusion and a look he didn't think possible from the young timid girl he remembered. So he said the first thing that came to mind, "I want to be with you." Realizing that it perhaps didn't come out exactly as smoothly as he had wanted he stumbled through a continuation of his thought, "Um...here. I wanted to make sure…"

She cut him off before he had a chance to continue, "Are you asking to be my sworn shield? Guard my interests as well as my body from those who seek to harm them?" There was a headiness to her voice that she couldn't easily choke down. ' _Did he just say he wants to stay here?'_ she mused to herself.

Sandor could hear her feet gently slide across the stone floor as she circled around his freshly dried body. She was inspecting him, looking over every inch of his body as she made her way in front of him, and it was all he could do to suppress his more animal nature. There were not enough decapitated heads in all the seven kingdoms to think of that could suppress the rush of blood down his body, and the tingling sensation a man gets from arousal.

There was no doubt in her mind that he was in absolute top form. Sansas eyes roamed his body openly, noting every scar and every curve of his muscles. Joffery had always made fun of his hairiness, putting even more emphasis on his notorious nickname. Sansa found his chest, broad, deep and covered in thick brown hair masculine, bold and extremely breathtaking. She took a quick look below his waist before joining her eyes with his. It was clear, even from her limited sexual experience, that Sandor Clegane was an impressive man in all senses.

The thought flashed through his mind, ' _She wants me. Me?'_ It was by no means what he had expected and he had certainly not prepared for it. His wit was his only defense. He took a step toward the she-wolf, bridging the distance so that they almost touched, "Do you inspect all your guards this way?"

Their bodies were so close she could smell the freshness of the soap he had used, and the scent of his body that was unique to him. It was earthy, like an untouched forest on a fall day. It was spicy, enticing her to break the tension that had begun to build between them. Sansa raised on her toes so as to get close enough to his ear to whisper, "No." She rocked back on her heels and held his eyes with hers.

Sansa continued, "I will grant you your wish. I just so happens I am in need of somebody with your talents." She shifted uneasily. The next part was going to be difficult, though it was the reason she had sought him out in his chambers. Her stomach churned, "But this post is contingent on you accepting something from me, something I've been meaning to give you since I fled King's Landing."

Sandor studied her eyes for a moment, not knowing what she was thinking, but knowing she was torn. ' _What in the seven hells is going on?'_ It was as if she was debating something, weighing something in her mind. Naturally his thoughts went to his face, perhaps she had gotten too close and lost her nerve or something. That's why his response to her came out gruff, "What could that be?"

Her heart beat at a pace that almost made her fall over. Sandor was such an intimidating man, not just physically but in his life experience as well. She began to have second thoughts about her original plan, fear that she might not live up to his standard of a woman. ' _No,'_ she told herself, ' _you've wanted to do this since you understood the sacrifices he had made you. It was all you could think about for the last couple years. I have to do it, I need to do it."_

Doing her best not to break eye contact with him she replied, "I wanted to thank you for all that you did for me at the capital, and what you did for my sister on the King's Road." She gulped as his face turned a sneer. Sansa lifted her hand to the tie at the front of her cloak near the neck and pulled. Her cloak pooled in a soft mound at her feet, exposing her soft smooth naked body to the man in front of her.

He could have died a happy man right then and there. Sandor had often wondered what she would look like topless or with just a hint of her back showing through a particularly sheer gown. He had not tried too terribly hard to imagine her full naked body all at once, he didn't want to hunger for something he knew he couldn't have. Gods be damned, they had not gifted him with the capacity to imagine what stood before him. She was tall and shapely. Her white skin like milk with hardly a blemish. Sansa smelled like honeysuckle and it made him desperately want to know how she tasted. But no, there was something wrong here. He fought hard against his gut feeling. Good things didn't happen to the Hound. Beautiful highborn women didn't just take off their clothing for him, they spat on him, shied away from him, avoided eye contact at all costs. ' _What the fuck is she playing at?'_ he raged to himself.

Without warning he grabbed her by the biceps, locking her body to his and brought his face down to her level. In a low growl he started, "You want to pity fuck me girl? Is that what this is?" She didn't flinch, much to his surprise. She acted like a woman who had often been grabbed that way, who had been abused. He instantly felt guilty.

Her hands flew reflexively to his chest, to brace herself. Calmly Sansa held his eyes in hers. He was intimidating, he was scary, but she knew she could handle it. "I don't want to pity fuck you." She said, not caring what words came out of her mouth. "All my life men have wanted me for my name, my land and my birth right. They have wanted to take from me, take everything I am. It was after I fled King's Landing that I realized I wanted to make love to a man that looked at me the way you did. Then slowly I realized that I actually wanted it to be you. That I wanted to show you I felt the same."

Sandor searched her eyes for some sort of lie, some sort of deception that would prove his long held belief, that no woman in her right mind would want him if he didn't pay her for it. But he could find no indication at all in Sansa's eyes. It was then that she leaned her head forward and kissed him. It was a soft sweet kiss, a kiss that he had been waiting for since he had first laid eyes on her in Winterfell all those years ago. It was a kiss that would make even the mightiest men crumble.


	3. Forever and Always

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing ;-)

 **Note:** Lemons yes whoo hoo! As I continue to try new things with my writing I've found that writing the sex stuff is something that I must improve. Hence this chapter. It's a good way to try out a style and see where it takes you. Normally I write, review a few times, make minimal changes and just go with the flow. This was a challenge to get my mental pictures down on paper / online. I'm curious to see if it is well received and hope this leads to better thought collection and focus for improvement on other stories.

Also for my SanSan fans, I'm coming up with a story that is a little more angsty and more...flirty. Sometimes the endless tension and play can be more exciting than the sex act itself. Let's see, but it's on long term development.

* * *

 **Sansa**

As her lips met his, Sandor almost instantly loosened his grasp on her, allowing Sansa to move her arms around his neck. She gripped the back of his head, pulling him closer to her, giving her the satisfaction of having their bodies touch. She moaned as he slowly stood to his full height, dragging her body across his rough chest, eliciting a tingling in her nipples that was new and exciting. He let one of his arms support her bum holding her up as her feet no longer touched the ground, he allowed his other to trail down her back.

He didn't taste like she thought he would, like grit and the road. The Hound's mouth was neutral, his tongue playful as she carefully flicked it with her own. Sansa couldn't deny that she liked the feeling of his beard on her face, teasing her skin and making it more sensitive. She loved the way his body flexed against hers, holding her strongly to him. When she came up for air, it only took a small tip of his arm to throw her over his shoulder, giving her bum a quick kiss, Sandor walked her over to the feather bed in the corner and gently spilled her over the furs that covered it.

Sansa smiled and laughed out of surprise as her body met the bed. Her eyes met his and there was an intensity in them that she had not seen before. Sandor had always looked at her in a way that was hard to describe. It was both penetrating and disarming, in King's Landing it had made her uncomfortable. Now she embraced his feeling and intensity, it was so strong that he didn't have to physically restrain her to hold her there, his eyes did all the work.

Sandor took a moment to enjoy the delightful sight in front of him. It wasn't every day that he had a chance to put his manhood to the test, and it certainly wasn't every day that a woman looked at him with such lust in her eyes. He took in the sight of her breasts heaving with the increased expansion of her chest, and indulged in it by stroking himself from base to tip. One of her soft legs hung over the edge of the bed, the other was propped up on the edge. Her hair surrounded her head in long deep copper strands. It was her eyes that really had him though. She kept switching between looking at him and watching his cock with extreme interest.

He grinned knowing he would make her wait for what she wanted. Sandor had to taste her first, he needed to know if she was like he had imagined. To Sansa's surprise he dropped to his knees near the edge of the bed and pulled her bum toward him. There he could get a proper look at her, an intimate close look. He'd never really tasted a woman before, whores were not exactly the most appetizing of beasts. Aside from that, he was paying them to pleasure _him_ and not the other way around. Now, it was his turn to do the pleasuring, the mere thought brought a twitch to his member and lurch to his stomach as he lightly dipped his tongue between her rosy pink folds.

Sansa had propped herself on her elbows to see what he was up to and then threw her head back at his first tentative touches. She'd never been kissed there by a man before, only fucked and used. Sandor's tongue was warm and thick, it was keen to slip and dart around exploring her most intimate parts. As he gently parted her lips and pressed his tongue further she moaned, her legs came automatically to his shoulders so as to better move with him. It wasn't long before she had laid her head back on the furs and lost herself in the feeling of utter bliss that the Hound's mouth was giving her.

She was like a sweet honey mead, a summer mead. Her juices were thick, sweet and came in abundance. As Sandor drove deeper toward her core, he kept her hips still, not allowing her an easy escape. Her moans were delicious, and they were for him. All for him. He pulled back from between her legs to get a better look at her face. Sansa was locked in a look pure enjoyment. Her lips slightly parted, cheeks flush with desire, her eyes closed as she reveled in the feeling of him around her. He had to be careful, she was so intoxicating that he might get carried away with himself, he could already feel his balls inching closer to his body - demanding a release. Sandor did his best to calm himself. He needed to show her what he was capable of, erase all of her bad memories and replace them with one good intimate one. He had to show her what it was like to be with a man who cared for her, who respected her, who loved her.

No sooner had the heat disappeared from between her legs, than Sansa opened her eyes in time to see her partner crawl on top of her. They were face to face again, he smelled like a mixture of her enjoyment and him. She caressed the burnt side of his face, clearing his hair away so that she could see him better in the dim light. She could tell it made him uncomfortable, but she didn't care. He was not a good looking man in the traditional sense, far from it if she was honest with herself. Those things mattered so little to her now. Looks, titles, lands they were all worthless. The only thing that mattered was the look in his eyes in this moment, and the passion he had for her that threatened to boil over. She could feel his manhood pressing strongly against her inner thighs, begging for more. "Don't be too gentle." She whispered teasingly in his ear.

Her whisper elicited a growl from Sandor that reverberated through his chest. He didn't need to warm her up further, he'd never felt so much wetness from a woman before. He lightly bit at her neck as he inched himself toward her opening. He exhaled deeply into the nape of her neck at her sheer tightness. She might as well have been a maiden for as tight as she fit around his head. As her hips hitched he neglected her immediate order to _not_ take her gently, in favor of a staged approach. Clearly she needed time to get use to him, and it wasn't easy. It was the way she gripped his forearms, the moans that escaped her lips and the way she opened her legs further for him that drove him mad, making it harder to not pick up the pace of his entry.

Sansa was dragging her nails down her partner's back, feeling every rock hard muscle as she made her way. Sandor was stretching her far beyond what any man or object had before, and she was stuck somewhere between bliss and pain. She felt like she would rip, and if that were to happen she'd be the most satisfied woman on earth. It was painstaking how slow he was going, but at the same time she dreaded what would happen if he moved any faster. She didn't have much time to ponder this, as he turned over so that she would settle on top of him in a straddle. Whatever little space had been left inside her was swiftly removed as she sat on his full length. He had hit something in her belly and she felt like he would drill right through her. Catching a glimpse of his face she could see a grin there, it was the grin of male pride. Sansa had to grip his quads in order to steady herself, then slowly realized it helped her motion on top of him to use her arms to lift her body.

The little wench was gaining more confidence as she rolled her hips, making him groan and moan like a man possessed. She was simultaneously exploring him and pleasuring him - it was all he could do to not end things too quickly. There was something about the growing confidence of her stare, the way she threw her head back when she found a particularly good spot that warmed his cold heart. Her long auburn hair draped her breasts, but didn't quite cover her pink taut nipples from view completely made him wonder if this was what life after death could be like, if he'd been a good man. Sex had always been a thing he did because he could, because it felt good, because he could afford it. What he was experiencing now was completely different. It was completely alien to him that he could pull so much joy out of watching another. That he could feel so much passion for somebody, that it could make him look past his own baser needs in favor of someone else's.

Sandor drew his battle worn hands over Sansa's thighs as she pressed her hands hard onto his chest, pushing him deeper inside her. She was getting so close now, he could see her breath changing, her motions less deliberate, her strength leaving her. He moved his hips with hers in order to heighten her sensation, to bring her closer to the edge. Her voice was so beautiful, her muscles strong as they closed around him when she found her release. A thin layer of sweat formed on her skin as he lowered her limp, pleasure filled body onto his. Sansa kissed him sweetly.

During her orgasim she had actually seen colors, it had been so strong and so deliberate. She'd never felt that with anybody, never felt her insides quiver and spasm, never felt cared for and safe in such an intimate moment. It was as if he had undone the months of horrific treatment she had suffered at the hands of Ramsay. She didn't have too much time to consider the meaning of this thought, as Sandor lifted her body and turned her again on her back. They were face to face now, and she greedily wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He nibbled her bottom lip and played with her tongue. It brought out the girl in her that had been so harshly taken from her. She giggled at the feeling of his beard, the softness of his lips and for the sheer joy that she felt in his arms.

She slipped her hand between them and brought him back to her opening, "So eager are we?" Sandor whispered teasingly in her ear. He knew that to go this round would be to find his own release. He was only a man after all, but who was he to deny her what she wanted?

He hooked her leg over his hip and sheathed himself in her completely. With one hand near her head and his body leaning over hers he had a clear view of her face. He wanted that, needed to see her face as he fucked her properly. As he gained speed and intensity he watched her hands grip the furs below her, her back arch and her mouth open to release enough sound that he was surprised nobody came to see if he was murdering her. Her encouragement screams of "More," "Harder," and "Don't stop" were enough to keep him fixated on her. It wouldn't be for too long, he could feel his release pass the point of no return, he could see her blue eyes smiling at him and he could feel her hands gripping his hips and holding them there. "Oh Sansa!" were the words that rolled off his tongue as he had the most intense release he could remember. He did his best to let himself down to the side of her and not fall directly on top of her. His body convulsed slightly as the final shiver of sexual enjoyment rolled through him.

The thought only then crossed his mind that he hadn't pulled out, but rather allowed himself to spill inside of her. She didn't seem to mind though, reading his mind she offered, "We women have ways of dealing with that. Besides, it felt amazing." Sandor pulled her to his burly chest and stroked her hair.

"I don't really know what I did to deserve that, and I don't give a fuck." He smiled. He knew from this point on that she had him, that he would do anything for her.

Sansa ran her long fingers through the rough hair on his chest and took the moment in. She'd been through so much in such a little time, she grown up in ways she'd never felt she should. Yet, after all this, their paths had crossed again - his path had led him back to her. She had already decided long before he came back into her life that she would not be a broodmare for some lord's little prick of a son, nor did she have the desire to conform to what was expected of her anymore. She had played that game and it had only lead to pain, anger and sadness. She would follow her heart, and her heart kept coming back to him. She needed him by her side, forever and always.


End file.
